


Heroics Are For The Weak.

by Glitchinthedark



Series: THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY WHUMPTOBER 2020 [26]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Blood, Dark Diego Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves-centric, Head Injury, Murder, Violence, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:00:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitchinthedark/pseuds/Glitchinthedark
Summary: To most it was just two lines, a scratch that could have easily been created through self-defence. It was a branding, two lines, number two.
Series: THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY WHUMPTOBER 2020 [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949950
Kudos: 8
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Heroics Are For The Weak.

The city wasn’t safe but as long as Diego Hargreeves walked the streets, there were always risks of an attack. News had spread through the papers of a masked murderer rampaging through the downtown, stabbing his victims and leaving them all with a signature injury – two straight lines down the left cheek. Nobody had found the killer, nor was there any evidence to indicate towards a primary suspect. Diego was too careful to let that happen.

Tonight was another evening for an attack. After spending a few days quietly surveying his victim, learning about their secrets, locations and household, he was ready to strike and claim what he deserved. The man lived on the first floor, never locked his windows and had seemingly thick soundproof walls. His name was unknown to Diego, for his victims weren’t even worth so much of a thought of humanity. He wanted what they had, what he always deserved.

Lifting up the unlocked window, he quietly snuck through the gap, leaving no detection that he was even there. He hid as he staked out his victim, sitting in a lavish lounge chair, eyes fixed to the large flatscreen TV showing old reruns of the day’s news. It wasn’t difficult to launch a sneak attack, by the time they had heard him coming, it was too late. Grabbing a nearby flower vase, he silently approached the man, eyes fixated on the perfect spot on the back of his bald head to disarm him and gain his advantage.

Slamming the vase down just under the tip of his head he let the china shatter down around him as he moved to grab the man’s arms, throwing him to the ground. He was ready to fight, but as expected, the man was fearful, easily giving in to his submission without so much of a second thought. Grabbing the outline of his skull, Diego repeatedly slammed the man’s head into the wall, leaving crimson cracks staining the white walls of the apartment. He knew the layout of the flat and knew he had a safe, one most likely filled with expensive personal belongings. That was his target now.

“If you thought head trauma was bad, you’re in for a lot worse buddy.” He grabbed the collar of the victim’s shirt, choking him with the force of his grip before pushing him up against the wall. “Give me the code to the safe. Now!”

“4- 4182” he stuttered, barely able to retain composure as his house was ransacked head to toe by the turned vigilante. As he was dropped to the floor his head smacked back against the wall, leaving him stuck in a dazed state of delirium.

Moving to the safe he entered the simple four-digit code to receive his reward, not even showing an ounce of concern that the man he hurt could fight back – he knew he wouldn’t. Opening the safe door he found everything he needed, stacks of money, some expensive looking jewellery, a fine reward for such an easy task. “You should have really put this in a bank” he laughed, counting his way through the money before placing the stacks into his messenger bag.

Turning around to stare down his fearful victim he let out a maniacal laugh. “Its so easy these days” he spoke, glaring down upon his prey as he grabbed the knives from his harness. Without even so much of a second thought, he threw the knife directly into his chest, striking his heart with a direct precision. It still wasn’t enough for him; he wanted to see his victims bleed, watch the life drain out of them through each drop of blood that ran from their wounds. Squatting down he reached out and lifted the chin of his victim, looking into their eyes with a faux attempt at sympathy before giving a twisted smirk. Retaining perfect balance, he pulled the knife out of his chest, watching the steady flow of blood begin to flood over his clothes. Killing his victims swiftly wasn’t enough, he wanted to watch the struggle, the hope draining from their eyes as he hurt them, watching as they were unable to overpower his training and abilities.

Without skipping a beat, Diego turned the mans face to the side, exposing his cheeks devoid of all colour. He couldn’t just leave them unmarked, a pristine corpse ready for examination, he had to leave a mark, a message. Running the pointed tip of the blade down his cheek he left two perfectly formed lines down his left cheek – his calling card. To most it was just two lines, a scratch that could have easily been created through self-defence. It was a branding, two lines, number two.

**Author's Note:**

> Dark Diego ficlet eh? Why not.


End file.
